


Kisses That Never Were, Could've Been, And Were Altogether Very Real

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7726801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for tumblr user leiascully's fnf</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kisses That Never Were, Could've Been, And Were Altogether Very Real

1\. The first time he thought about kissing her, he’d barely known her a full day. She’d bared herself to him, not to be alluring, but out of fear. The candlelight shadowed all the wrong places and he had to touch the bumps on the back of her hip to really see them. Under different circumstances, maybe it would have been a turn on, but it really wasn’t. She turned into his arms, shaking like leaf, and just for a moment, he wanted to put his lips to her temple and tell her she was okay. 

He wouldn’t call her unattractive, but he wasn’t attracted to her. It wasn’t about that. He remembered once, when he was fairly little, waking from a nightmare and his mother, when she was still a mother to him, holding him close and kissing the side of his head as he trembled. He wanted to make her feel the kind of safe he’d felt after his nightmare, but he’d barely known her a full day, so he talked to her instead and tried to let her get to know him a little bit.

 

2\. He first thought about kissing her in a non-platonic way at the most inconvenient of times. He still wasn’t attracted to her. Not really. At least, he didn’t think he was. She wasn’t his type. But, somehow, locked together in a storage closet, with his hand on the back of her neck, gave him the hint of a thrill in his chest and in his groin. His hand lingered too long at her neck and he finally put it on her shoulder. He wondered, as he stared at the top of her bare back before he adjusted her collar back in place, what might happen if he put his mouth against her skin.

 

3\. He held her hand and told her things she couldn’t hear, hoping that wherever she was, his voice might help lead her back. If he believed in fairy tales, it would be a good time to play Prince Charming to her Sleeping Beauty. They would probably never let him move all the tubes and wires to give it try though.

He laced his fingers with hers, mindful of the heart monitor clipped to her pointer, and lifted her hand to his cheek. He watched her face as he rubbed his stubbled chin into her palm. Nothing. Sighing, he lowered his head and his face slid down the inside of her arm. He felt for the pulse point in her wrist with his mouth, lingering there for ten full heartbeats, watching the green blips on the monitor in time with the faint thumps against his lips. It bothered him that her skin smelled like Band-Aids.

 

4\. She was covered in scrapes and bruises when he found her. He couldn’t get the ties off her wrists fast enough, mostly because the anxiety that poured off of her made his fingers fumble at the knots. Her chin bled and trembled and her eyes refused to meet his. She held onto him like that night in his motel room and this time, he did put his lips to her temple and put his arms around her. You’re safe, he told her with the press of his mouth to her sweaty hairline. This nightmare is over. You’re safe.

 

5\. He didn’t really remember how he got from his father’s house to her door. He did remember her holding him up as he stumbled and her pulling him away from her couch when all he wanted to do was sit down. After that, he could only remember pieces. A cool rag on his head. Her hands on his chest. The weight of his boots being pulled from his feet. His sticky shirt peeled from his ribs.

He tried to get up when she began to wash the blood away from his abdomen, but she gently pushed him back down. She told him he was sick. She told him to close his eyes and sleep. She told him she would take care of him. Her warm lips touched his brow and her thumbs circled his temples. At least he thinks so. He’s still not quite sure if it really happened or if he just wanted it to. He can’t remember.

 

6\. He handed over his gun to her and lowered his head into his hands. The look on her face and the tears that pooled in her eyes were burned into his retinas. He heard her answering questions for him as he passively let a medical team look him over. She tugged on his shirt sleeve when they were allowed to leave and deposited him in the passenger seat of the car. She got in the driver’s side, but looked at him instead of turning the key to start the engine.

She reached over and touched the back of his head, pulling him towards her and she leaned towards him and rested her forehead against his temple. She kissed his cheek and he closed his eyes, sucking his lower lip under his teeth to bite back a sob that rose from his chest.

We’re okay, she said.

I could’ve killed you, he whispered.

You almost killed yourself, she rasped.

He shuddered. She kissed his cheek again and then let him go. She started the car and adjusted the mirrors. He crossed his arms over her chest and slid away to lean against the window. The glass was cold. He felt numb all over, but his cheek tingled where her lips had been.

 

7\. When he thought about it, she would make a great mother. She already had that unwavering support and unconditional love thing down pat. She was fiercely protective. A caretaker. A staunch advocate. All those things mothers were. Not including his own. She’d stopped being a mother circa 1973, but he supposed it wasn’t really her fault.

He didn’t want to be mistaken for having an Oedipus complex. He didn’t think of her as his mother, not by a long shot, but when he paused and reflected on motherly qualities, she was ideal. And then he could picture it. And all that talk about genetic mixing made him wonder what a Mulder-Scully offspring would be like. He hoped they would be smart, but silly. Kind and compassionate. They could have her eyes and his coloring. Or his eyes and her nose. He would teach them how to hit a baseball and she could teach them how to shoot a gun. He could help with the English homework and she could help with science projects.

They would get a minivan and a house in Alexandria with a big back yard and a basketball hoop. Maybe he’d put in a swing set or make sure they were close to a park. He would help with bath time and they might argue about story time because she’d think ghost stories were only for campfires. She would win because every time he did tell a ghost story, the kids came running for their bed at every little noise and he’d have to get up in the middle of the night and check for monsters in the closets.

Friday night would be family night. They would give the kids pizza and play games and let them stay up late watching movies. Saturday night would be date night and they would go out to dinner or a movie and stay up late doing adult things. Sometimes she would tease him and tell him not to look at her like that, she was someone’s mother for heaven’s sake. He would tell her she wouldn’t be anyone’s mother if he hadn’t looked at her like that in the first place. They would lock the door to the bedroom and try not to act like anyone’s parents for the next twenty minutes.

Sunday morning the kids would pile in their bed and fall back to sleep. He would always get up first, kiss them all, go for a run, come home and make pancakes for everyone. The kids would watch cartoons while he discretely kissed her neck as she sipped her coffee. She would pretend to shrug him off, asking if he didn’t have enough the night before. He could never have enough of her, he would answer. They would go over the weekly schedule of who would take who to swim lessons or karate class or violin lessons or soccer practice. And it all would start all over again.

He hadn’t seen any of that before he really thought of it, but once it entered his mind, he saw her a little differently.

 

8\. He’d never imagined her kissing anyone else besides him. He was pretty sure she’d had boyfriends, and he remembered her going out on a date once, but the reality was a slap in the face. It would be bad enough if it had only been a one night stand that he never knew about, but then that Jerse asshole had to try to kill her and suddenly a talking tattoo made things an x-file. When he looked at the guy’s mug shot, he couldn’t help but picture them together and he hated them both, just a little. He hated Jerse for knowing her in a way he’d only imagined and he hated her for letting a stranger in. He felt like something had been stolen from him.

 

9\. Sitting in the hall, trying to pretend he hadn’t just been running panicked through the hospital corridor, sure she was dead, he waited for her to come out of her friend’s room. She felt smaller than he remembered when he put his arms around her. He supposed it was because she was in slippers and pajamas. The white robe she wore was slightly scratchy under his hands. He would buy her a new one and pretend it was a belated birthday present. She deserved something soft.

He wanted to tell her that he forgave her for kissing someone that wasn’t him, but it wouldn’t make any sense to her and it would give him away. He wanted to tell her he was sorry about the children they would never have, but she wouldn’t understand that either and he couldn’t kick her while she was down. He really didn’t want to explain how her potential children were his children too.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, wondering if he would be able to feel that hateful mass of cells at the bridge of her nose, but he didn’t. He only felt her soft skin and the whisper of her sigh against his chin. He put his fingers in her hair and brushed his thumbs over her temples and he hoped she knew he’d do anything for her. Anything at all.

 

10\. There he was again, watching someone else kiss her – about to kiss her – except this time it was himself. Well, it was him, but it wasn’t him. Another opportunity stolen by Eddie Van Blundht, the ‘h’ is silent. And now that he had that image of what they looked like together, he would never get it out of his mind.

 

11\. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders and her cheek came to rest on his bowed back. He’d just wanted answers. Even if it meant drilling holes in his head and taking hallucinogenic drugs. The noise of the SWAT team flooding the room was unbearable and he tensed up. She knelt down beside him and held his head against her chest. Her nails raked through his hair and he wanted to burrow against her and stay there.

She put her nose to his neck and her lips to his ear, whispering that she was going to get him out of there and not to talk, not to move, just to stay where he was and let her handle it. He nodded against her and she kept a protective arm across his shoulders as she ordered the team to put their weapons down and get a medic. He shivered and she bent her head over him. Her lips touched his ear again, but she didn’t say anything.

 

12\. The plan they made wasn’t foolproof, but it would buy him time. Eventually, they would know it wasn’t his body that’d been found on the floor of his apartment, but if she could stall long enough, he might be able to grab enough puzzle pieces. He might be able to save her.

Be careful, she told him. She made him promise. He looked up at her from where he kneeled on the floor next to her chair and then leaned his head against her shoulder. She put her arms around him and reiterated her request for him to be careful, adding a ‘please’ this time. He tipped his head just a little and his mouth was so close to her throat if she swallowed in that moment, she might accidentally cause him to kiss her.

He moved away, not trusting himself in that moment to not do something foolish.

 

13\. When his lips made contact with hers for the first time it was mostly an accident. He desperately wanted to kiss her, grateful that she was still alive, still holding on, but he was unsure of the reception. He’d been aiming for her cheek, but at the last minute he caught the corner of her mouth. She was too preoccupied over his safety and he was too preoccupied with saving her life for it to treat it like the momentous occasion that it was.

 

14\. When she said she couldn’t sing, she was right. He was surprised because he was pretty sure she could do anything, but she definitely couldn’t sing. He wondered how he could know her for almost five years and not know how terrible she was, but come to think of it, he’d never heard her sing in the car and never overheard her in the shower through the thin walls of the hotels they stayed at. 

Chorus, he mumbled, when she suddenly stopped. She squeezed his shoulder as he wiggled against her lap. Something howled in the distance and she grew distracted. He wiggled again, restless. She started the second verse, quieter this time.

_If I were the king of the world, tell you what I’d do. I’d throw away the cars and the bars and the war, and make sweet love to you._

He held his breath and tried to turn his head towards her, but she put her hand in his hair and kept singing. If his shoulder wasn’t hurting so bad, he might have been able to resist and pull her head down for a kiss.

He wondered if she knew what she was doing when she picked that song. He wondered if he could will it to rain sleeping bags if he concentrated hard enough. For years to come, if anyone asked him his favorite song, he was going to answer Joy to the World, in the key of monotone. 

 

15\. He walked her away from the tiny casket filled with sand and put her in the car. She asked him to take her to the beach so he did. They sat on a bench flanked by palm trees at the top of a five-foot drop of sand-covered rocks. It was a cloudy day in the middle of winter, but there were still a decent number of surfers and beach combers out and about.

He put his arm on the back of the bench and when she didn’t try to shrug him away, pulled her closer. She sighed and laid her head back against his shoulder. He took her limp hand and massaged her heart line with his thumb. When he heard her sniffle, he picked up her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers, one by one, in apology.

 

16\. Her hand flopped beside him like a desperate, dying fish, and he took it. He didn’t know if she knew she’d unconsciously reached for him, but he hoped she did. If not for the room full of people and the regression hypnosis happening, he’d want to slide closer, pull her into his lap, kiss her face, tell her to wake up from her nightmare. Except it wasn’t a nightmare. And she could be mad at him all she wanted, he just didn’t know if he would be able handle another instance of finding her unconscious in a hospital bed with burns on her face and no memory of how she got there.

 

17\. Being in restraints was one of the worst things that had ever happened to him. Emotional restraint was one thing, but physical restraint was a whole other ballgame. He didn’t realize how much he needed to touch her sometimes until he couldn’t. For maybe the first time, she couldn’t even help him.

When she got up to leave, he wanted to ask her to kiss him goodbye. He had a sick feeling that he might not actually make it out of this hospital alive and the thought of never having really kissed her seemed like a tragedy. More and more, he really wanted that kiss. Not a friendly kiss. Not a kiss of comfort, but one of desire. Yes, he desired her. He could now admit that to himself. He just didn’t know if she felt the same. He told her she was his one in five billion and he hoped she knew it meant ‘I love you.’

 

18\. He didn’t know what he would do without her. The thought of her leaving made him anxious, desperate even. He couldn’t believe his ears when she rattled off all the reasons why she wasn’t good for him and he didn’t know who she was trying to convince – him or herself. 

The unintended words spilled out of him in a rush. He admitted things to her that he could barely admit to himself. And in the midst of confessing his feelings, he realized that she was right. She was wrong, but she was right. He’d been the one holding her back all along. Her reassignment was an opportunity, not a punishment.

Deflated, ashamed at having made her cry, he pulled her against him. He tried to think of something to say to let her go with no hard feelings, but she pulled his head down and kissed his forehead and he couldn’t think anymore. Not when her lips lingered so long and then she rested her head against the spot she’d just kissed.

He pulled back to look at her. This was the moment. Opportunity was now. He couldn’t lose her any more or any less by holding back. He moved slowly, giving her a chance to turn away if she needed to, but he could tell by the way she flexed her fingers against his neck that she wasn’t going anywhere. Their lips breezed past each other without making contact and she crashed into his chest, breathing hard. As she pulled the bee out of her collar and slithered to the floor, he was about to learn how wrong he was to assume he couldn’t lose her.

 

19\. It seemed as though they took turns passing out. He woke once to find her face pressed to his, her mouth moving against his cheek as she begged him to wake up. He groaned and she kissed his eyes. Her chapped lips were like sandpaper. They had to get over the hill to the sno-cat.

She fell to her hands and knees several times. It was a struggle to pull her to her feet and he would have carried her if he could, but the cold and the exhaustion were too much. She passed out on him shortly after he got her up into the cab of the vehicle and he slapped her face to get her to open her eyes.

Stay with me, he said. He pressed his forehead to hers as her eyes rolled and tried not to touch her where frostbite burned her cheeks. He moved his mouth, wanting to say something more, wanting…wanting…but, not like this. He had to get them home and he didn’t know how.

 

20\. She never acknowledged what almost happened between them in his hallway and he didn’t know if he should be grateful or take it as rejection. He was more curious now than he’d ever been about what it might be like. So he figured, if she could kiss – almost kiss – his doppleganger, well then he could kiss hers.

He did what he probably should have done years ago and pulled the woman to him, covering her protesting mouth with his. Red satin felt wrong under his hands. Her stunned mouth was unyielding. He hadn’t even got around to slipping her the tongue when she’d pushed him away and slugged him hard with a right hook. He was certain he deserved it.

 

21\. He wanted to tell her to ignore what she just saw. If anyone’s lipstick was going to be smeared across his mouth, it should be hers, not Sheila Fontaine’s. Truth be told, he was a little hurt that she’d seemed more surprised than angry. He’d got a touch of her jealous side when Agent Fowley reappeared in his life and he had to admit it was a little bit of a turn on to know she could feel that way.

She laughed when he tried to explain it to her. Well, she didn’t laugh per se, but she looked amused as he tripped over his own tongue. She stopped him by putting a finger to his lips and waiting until he shut up. She licked her thumb and then wiped the bottom of his mouth, erasing a smudge of lipstick he’d missed in his frantic attempt to scrub his face clean with paper towels. He looked at her helplessly. She patted his chest and then cocked her head a little at him.

She said something about switches being flicked, but he had no idea what she was talking about.

 

22\. He hated that idiot Ritter. He hated that jackass Kersh. He hated the FBI and the NYPD. He loved NYU Medical and he loved her. He picked up her hand and kissed her thumb with his. He stared at her mouth while she stared out the window, tracing the whorls of her fingerprints.

A nurse came in to change her bandage and she squeezed his hand. He pulled a plastic chair close and sat beside her, his eyes drifting only once towards the red, puckered skin at the side of her stomach. She squeezed his hand again and he focused back on her eyes until the nurse left and she relaxed her grip.

You should sleep, he said.

She pressed her thumb against his and searched his face. Her expression was hard to read, but something told him she didn’t want to be alone. He took his hand out of hers and cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb across her lips once.

I’ll stay, he said. You sleep.

She nodded and closed her eyes, turning her face into his hand.

 

23\. He peeked. Of course he peeked, he was only human after all, and endlessly curious. He didn’t see much more than the tops of her breasts and the outline of pale pink nipples, but it was enough to set his imagination on fire. In Antarctica he was too hopped up on fear and adrenaline to notice, but all bets were off in the long, forced confinement of a co-ed decontamination shower.

He wondered what she would do if he stepped around the barrier and pulled her wet, naked body against him. He wondered how many kisses it would take from her neck to her breast. He wondered what she would do if he dropped to his knees in front of her.

She glanced over at him and he knew she must know what he was thinking. She turned her back to him and he grimaced in embarrassment. It was not the time or place to be thinking such things anyhow.

 

24\. They were married and he still couldn’t get a kiss out of her. She air-kissed him to appease the situation, but he was a little disappointed that it seemed she would rather blow their cover than show her ‘husband’ a little affection. Maybe she just didn’t want an audience. He could respect that.

 

25\. Was Padgett right? Did she deny to herself that she was a beautiful woman? Did she really believe she went unnoticed to him? What Padgett took for repression, he took for professionalism. If it was true, he could definitely tell that man a thing or two about what her partner would think of her if she ‘unleashed’ her inhibitions. He’d sing the Hallelujah Chorus and ask for seconds. 

He really couldn’t blame the guy though. It may have taken him a little longer to get there, but he’d spent the better part of six years with her, fantasizing about kisses and touches from her and for her. He had the good sense not to write such things down, though. He was right about one thing at least, she really was stunningly, prepossessingly beautiful. He couldn’t argue with that.

More importantly, was Agent Scully already in love?

 

26\. Though he had nothing to compare it with, he was pretty sure holding her was just as enjoyable as kissing her. It had to be. She fit in his arms so perfectly and her laugh was like music to his ears. The baseballs kept coming and her giggles didn’t stop.

During the breaks while the kid reloaded the machine, he rested his chin on her shoulder and she rubbed her cheek against his head. He nudged her ear with his nose and his lips came dangerously close to the back of her jaw a few times, which made her laugh and it made him smile. Of course he wanted more, but if this was the only night he had with her and the closest they got, he might be okay.

 

27\. Too much noise in his head. He called her name, but someone else answered. Lips touched his that were familiar somehow, but he knew they weren’t hers and he didn’t have the strength to reject them. It was wrong, it was all wrong.

Scully, he said.

Fox, Diana answered.

I want Scully.

 

28\. Her warm lips touched his brow and her soft thumbs touched his mouth. He could have been disappointed that she walked away after all of that, but he’d had the pleasure of listening to her thoughts recently and it was now just a matter of time. He heard her tell him she loved him about a hundred times as she held his hand and tried not to cry. She debated with herself on whether or not she should kiss him goodbye before she left the hospital and he tried to urge her with his mind to do it, just do it, since he couldn’t speak. In the end her fear won out and she berated herself for her cowardice and he wanted to tell her not to. He loved her just as much and he was just as afraid as she was.

He knew it was only a matter of time. His constant. His touchstone.

 

29\. It wasn’t an extraordinary first kiss. It was close-lipped, rather chaste, and straddled the fence between friendly and just a little more than friendly, but he’d done it. The pressure was off and the curiosity was both satisfied and piqued. New Years’ made for a good excuse and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before.

It was impulsive of him, and neither of them may have seen fireworks, but he was glad it had happened. His heart raced and his stomach fluttered nervously after the fact and he wondered what she thought of it.

 

30\. He might have been imagining things, but he was pretty sure she’d been flirting with him since he kissed her. She tugged on his tie and gave him doe eyes – she gave him _fucking doe eyes_ – and practically said pretty please, with a cherry on top when she asked him to interrogate a suspect. He would’ve laid down in traffic if she asked him to with that look.

Was it just his imagination or did that one kiss do that? What would a second one bring?

 

31\. Donnie Fucking Pfaster. If she hadn’t had killed him first, he would have. She’d been so light-hearted since the new year. Laughed more. Played more. Accepted simple things like hand-holding. He hadn’t kissed her again yet – he was working up to it. He gave her a goodnight peck on the cheek in Chicago and then held his breath, expecting to be chastised, but she gave him a smile in return and told him to sleep well.

He stepped through the broken glass in her bedroom and sat beside her as she wallowed in self-doubt. He tried to take her hand, but she flinched and pulled away.

Donnie Fucking Pfaster.

 

32\. He shouldn’t have asked her to perform his mother’s autopsy, but he didn’t have anyone else he could trust. She always told him the truth, and he loved that about her, but the truth was just too painful in this instance. He felt broken and alone and angry and confused.

If she hadn’t been there to catch him, God knows what he would’ve done. She held onto him as he wept and eventually coaxed him to the couch. He turned his back to the room and tried to suffocate himself in the leather cushion. She took her jacket off and made him turn over. He kept his eyes closed and hugged himself, trying to be as small as possible.

She whispered his name as she lay down in front of him and put her arm over his back. She kissed the tears off his cheek and ran her fingers through his hair. He wondered if he’d ever get to experience her lips on his face or being in her arms when he wasn’t in so much pain.

 

33\. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted a child, but the important thing is that she wanted one. And she wanted one with him. He couldn’t not say yes to that, but it struck him as hilarious that she was too afraid to kiss him, yet had no problem asking for his DNA. Maybe it was a scientist thing.

His heart broke for her when it didn’t work. If they weren’t so hell bent on doing things completely backwards he would’ve kissed the pain away as best as he could. He would’ve made love to her slowly and reverently until he could convince her she wasn’t broken inside. He would’ve researched adoption agencies.

The problem was, they weren’t married. They weren’t lovers. They had barely managed an actual kiss, and that was months ago, so what was he supposed to do? The only thing he could do was wrap his arms around her until she told him she’d had enough and wanted to be alone.

 

34\. He supposed it was an act of rebellion. Maybe she was upset about the baby that would never be. Maybe she was still upset about Pfaster. Whatever it was, he’d never felt so much like he wanted to shake her in all the time he’d known her. What was she thinking? What the _hell_ was she thinking? And she had the nerve to look at him like his disappointment with her was hurtful. It should be hurtful. Of all the people to run off with she had to pick Cancerman?

He wanted to shake her. He wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to lock her in a closet until she promised she’d never move from his sight again. He wanted to pin her down on his couch and fuck her until neither of them could move for days.

He also wanted to wrap his arms around her so tightly that it would steal her breath away. He wanted to kiss her so deeply that her knees would give out. He wanted to make love to her with everything he had so that the power of it would overwhelm her.

Damn her for putting herself in danger like that. Damn her for making him so worried he hadn’t eaten anything but antacids for two days. Damn her for making him fall in love with her. 

 

35\. He just knew. He knew when he woke up to the sound of rain and her silhouette in his doorway that this was the moment that would change everything. He sat up in bed and the rustle of the sheets mixed with the whisper of her shirt hitting the floor.

Still he thought, is this real? As their mouths reacquainted and their tongues were introduced he thought, is this real? As he learned the taste of her neck and her throat and her breasts he thought, is this real? As she took him inside her and exhaled into his mouth he thought, is this real? As she gasped his name and he shuddered hers he thought, is this real?

When he woke up in the morning to the sounds of birds chirping and the click of his ceiling fan he looked around the empty room and thought, was she real? He turned his head and found two strands of red hair on his pillow.

 

36\. He backed her up against the door and she gave him an impish smile as she loosened his bow tie. She was a little tipsy. The headband holding her hair back had slipped forward just a little and he pulled it off and tossed it somewhere behind him. He put his hands on her hips and slid them around to her backside while she kept her shoulders and back against the door. 

She pulled on the lapels of his jacket and brought him in for a kiss, keeping her eyes open until his tongue invaded her mouth and then they rolled back in her head. She reached up to grip his hair instead of his jacket and pressed her pelvis into his. He groaned and grinded her hips back against the door.

He slid his hands down her thighs and reached for the hem of her dress, tugging it up to her hips. When he found bare skin, he pulled back in surprise and she giggled, ducking out of his arms to head backwards towards the bedroom. She told him she’d taken her panties off in the bathroom at dinner. If he’d been just a little bit more investigative in the limo, he would’ve known a lot sooner.

She was going to be the death of him, but he would die a happy man.

 

37\. He was aware how desperately she wanted to know what his third wish was. First, she tried pretending she wasn’t interested. When that didn’t work, she asked him outright. With the doe eyes again. When that still didn’t work, she resorted to seduction. She nipped at his chin and his lips and his earlobe and his neck. She pressed her breasts against him and put his hands on her ass and wiggled her hips in all the right places. He still didn’t tell her. It was more fun that way.

 

38\. He hated seeing her so sick, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t elated that she turned to him. He worried about the dizziness and nausea she felt, but being able to hold her through it and rub her back and keep her warm was a treasured gift. 

He watched over her as she slept, stealing occasional kisses when her brow furrowed from a bad dream.

You’re safe, he murmured against her temple. I’ve got you.

 

39\. He hadn’t touched her since he rose from the dead. Not once. She had touched him plenty, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch her. She was different. Not just that she was pregnant, but she treated him with kid gloves, like she was afraid of him. He felt like a stranger in a strange land and he didn’t like it.

The relief he felt when he found out she was okay, that the baby was okay, compelled him to touch her. He put his hand on her belly, looking to her to make sure he had her permission. Her smile told him all she needed to know. There was a little miracle in there and it awed him.

She took his hand and moved it lower and a little to the side, pressing it down and holding him there. After a few moments, he felt a little flutter. And then another. It startled him and she chuckled.

You’ve got a little soccer player in there, he said.

Maybe, she answered.

He remembered daydreaming about uber Mulder-Scullys once and assigning responsibility for swim lessons and karate classes. His lips twitched as he looked at her and she lifted her eyes. He wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t know what was okay anymore.

 

40\. The baby was perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, all in perfect working order. Someone said he passed his APGAR with flying colors and he didn’t know what that was, but of course he did. He was their child. _Their child._ His. Hers. _Theirs._ He wouldn’t let himself think of the baby as anything but hers while she was pregnant, but once he had him in his arms, it changed.

The truth they both knew is that they had made a miracle where science had failed. He kissed her softly, pouring all the love he felt in that moment into it. The love he had for her, the love he had for his son. _His son._ It was incredible.

Thank you, he said with his kiss. Thank you for giving me – us – this gift. He vowed to do anything to protect him. Anything at all.

 

41\. _I've resisted contacting you for reasons I know you continue to appreciate. But, to be honest, some unexpected dimensions of my new life are eating away at any resolve I have left. I'm lonely, Dana, uncertain of my ability to live like this. I want to come home. To you, and to William._

He stopped typing and put his head in his hands. He thought he could do this. He thought he could be strong and do this. As the days became weeks and he imagined all the things he was missing his son do for the first time, his spirit grew weaker. He just wanted to see them. Hold them. Kiss them. Kiss her. God, when he thought about all the kisses that could’ve been…

Leaving was hard. Staying away was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

 

42\. He remembered their first case together and how she dropped her robe in front of him in that dingy hotel room in Bellefleur and how he had felt an instant need to protect her. As they lay wrapped together, holding each other, keeping each other safe, he was glad they had taken their time. If he’d even thought about kissing her that day, they may not be where they were now.

There had been plenty of opportunities, if he really thought about it. So many situations to take advantage of. So many moments where crossing the line could’ve altered their course, but he was immensely proud of them for building an unwavering foundation of trust and love before giving in to desire.

Sure, they were outlaws, their son was gone, so much lot had been lost along the way, but they still had each other and that was something. He felt as long as he had her, he could get through anything.

He lifted his head up and slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her softly once, twice, and then lingering for a third. She smiled and her hand caressed his side as he lay back down.

What was that for, she asked.

I just wanted to kiss you, he answered.

The End


End file.
